If Only the Future
by Mishi Nagano
Summary: A collection of one shots, a mix of characters and small, but defining moments. I don't know how big this will be. Also, I'm sorry for the mess up with the html code on chapter 2 and 3. They should be fixed now. I will double check in a few to make sure it took.
1. The Cure

He ran down the pavement, not bothering about how he must look to the muggles. His hair and robes were a mess. He'd pushed his broom as fast as it'd go over the French countryside and then across the English Channel. Once the owl had arrived, he hadn't even bothered to tell the others where he was going. He'd lifted his wand, screamed "Accio Broom!" and took to the skies.

The chilly rains of London barely even slowed him down as he came slidding to a stop infront of the empty boutique.

"Frank and Alice Longbottom!"

The mannequin turned its gaze onto him and then granted him passage. He by-passed the reception witch without a second glance. He entered the lifted and almost cracked the button he pressed it so hard. His foot tapped anxiously at the slow progress the metal cage made up the shaft. When the gates started opening, he forced them all the way open so he could squeeze through. He paused only for a moment before opening the door to the ward.

The curtains were pulled closed around their beds, but he could see shadows moving behind them. Neville forced the lump on his throat down before slipping through the fabric. There they were, looking every bit like they always did, but at the same time, nothing like he'd always known them.

There was a young woman, a witch around his age sitting between the two, looking utterly exhausted. A tray of differing potions and ingredients floated near her shoulder, looking like most the bottles were now empty. Her wand hung limply in her hand, a faint purple glow coming from the tip, as if it had been casting a spell for so long it was admitting magcal residue. There was a glisten to her paling skin. Her brown hair was lack-luster and frizzing out, vaguely reminding him of Hermoine's.

Madam Josefina grabbed the woman's elbow and lifted her to her feet. She swayed for a moment, and may have fallen if it wasn't for the healers strong grip. The Madam pulled the woman from the curtained off room. He couldn't see her face from the bangs hanging haphazardly in the way. He watched her go, knowing she must be the one responsible.

"Neville..."

Neville turned around, staring at his mother. If it hadn't been for the voice being female, even gravely from nonuse for over twenty years, he wouldn't have known it was her. His throat became tight, constricting his breath. But even so, he walked to stand between the two beds. Both sets of eyes were clear for the first time that he could remember. He had been so strong for so long. He had fought in the Great War, beheaded Voldemort's snake, and now was beginning his career as a teacher. But all of that idn't stop his knees from giving out. It didn't stop the tears from falling or the loud sob to escape when he felt both of his parent's frail arms wrap around him in recognition.

Omg I can't believe I just did that. Is it bad that I wrote it yet I'm slightly tearing up? I've always wanted this to happen, for someone to discover a cure for madness and fix Frank and Alice. 'Cause honestly, to me, Neville's story is the saddest out of all the characters, even more so than Harry's. And I mean, come on. It's a world full of wizards and witches. Think of all the spells and potions they have. And NOONE has discovered how to fix madness? I mean, they figured out the Wolfsbane potion, didn't they?


	2. The Daughter

"Izzy, you're home!"

Isabella barely had time to prepare her weakened body for the impact, gripping onto the doorframe for stability. She looked down at the bright blue eyes that shined up at her in joy. Her younger sister by 4 years, Sarah looked so different from Isabella. Chalk it up to having different mothers. While Isabella had dark brown, frizzy hair and eyes so dark they appeared black and pale skin, her sister had strawberry blonde hair and eyes the color of cornflowers. For the longest time, Sarah was as pale as Izzy, but Izzy worked diligently to correct that. Now the girl had a healthy glow to her, as if she was permanently kissed by the sun.

"Hey, kiddo. Did you take your potion today?" Izzy asked as she sat her bag down next to the coat rack and began to unwrap her layers.

Sarah had the smarts to at least look sheepish, "No..."

Izzzy gave her a peeved look, "You know you need to keep taking it. Its for-"

"For my best I know. I know. But it taste so nasty, like something you'd dig out of a swamp." Sarah made a sour face. "Can't you flavor it somehow, like they do with muggle potions?"

Izzy sighed and walked to the palor to pour her some water to mix the herbs in Madam Josefina had given her. She sat in the worn out armchair that always smelled of lavender for some reason. "Sarah, magical potions aren't the same as muggle medicine. Every little ingredient changes the outcome of the potion, according to the amount and stage. And lots of those ingredients did come from a swamp. One in Germany that I went sludging through myself, might I add. You know this, you aced Potions class while in Gryffindor and Snape was the Professor. That shows your knowledge so don't give me that crap, I'm not in the mood."

Sarah shuffled on the carpet anxiously. Izzy could hear it, with her eyes shut and her head leaned back. "Come here," she lifted her arm to her younger sister, inviting her to squeeze into the spot under her arm. It took some wiggling and an elbow into Isabella's side, but they managed to squeeze in together. The two sister's sat quietly for awhile, Isabella occasionally sipping her concoctuion, waitning for it to help give her back some energy. Sarah laid her head on her sister's shoulder, twiddling the messy strands of dark hair in her fingers.

"So, I guess since you're so tired and snippy, it worked for them, too?"

Izzy hummed in acknowledgement. After a moment, she leaned her chin atop her sister's head. "I gave Madam Josefina the potion instructions and what ingredients I brought with me. I offered to show her just how I make it but she refused. Berated me about burning the candle at too many ends, needing rest, to look after myself..."

"Sounds familiar. Like someone's told you that many times before."

Both sister's looked up as their father entered the parlor. Jack Morbotton was a handsome man in his early fifties, with gray beginning to show in his neat beard and sideburns. His always combed hair was a mix inbetween Isabella's dark curls and Sarah's light waves. His gray eyes sparkled though as he looked upon his two girls.

Jack sat across from them in the matching armchair. "So, how did it go?"

Isabella sat up, forcing Sarah to sit on the floor, unceremoniously. She wrapped her hand around the teacup, remembering the lessons with Professor Trelawney as she looked at the residue at the bottom of the cup. "They look promising. I could hear Neville crying as Madam Josefina helped me out and his mom said his name clearly enough. I plan to make another visit in a couple weeks to do another round, just to be sure."

Jack leaned forward, reaching a hand out to her. She took it limply, her energy taking its sweet time returning to her. "You know I'm so proud of you for what you're doing, but you don't have to push yourself so hard. You have time."

"But these people don't!" This was the same arguement they'd had many times over, ever since The Attack years ago. "They've all lost so much time because of her. We've lost so much time because of her. I have to fix what she's done."

Sarah rubbed Izzy's leg. "I don't think they'd want you to run yourself to the ground doing it though." Her voice got smaller as she continued, "I wouldn't have minded waiting a few more years as long as you were healthy and safe."

Izzy shook her head, tears beginning to form. "No. You shouldn't have lost any time at all. She's the one that walked away, she's the one who didn't want me or father. She had no right to be angry that he'd moved on. Not after using him like she did. She was no mother of mine."

"But, Izzy, she came for you once she broke out of Azkahban. It was one of the first things she did."

Izzy leapt to her feet and stormed over to the floor length mirror by the fireplace. She glared at her reflection. She was the spitting image of her mother and she hated it. Everyone knew once they saw her, knew who she had to be the daughter of. And she'd spent her entire life showing people she wasn't her mother's daughter.

Izzy ground her teeth, refusing to let anymore tears be shed over the mother she never knew. "That bitch didn't want me when I was born and she didn't want me then. She just wanted to play with father's heart again. She enjoyed others suffering. That's why she attacked you and your mother. She killed Beth in front of us and then tortured you till you lost your mind, while we were forced to watch. Helpless."

Izzy resisted the urge to punch the mirror. Instead, she turned and began to make her way up the stairs, grabbing her bag as she went. "I leapt for joy the day I learned Bellatrix LeStrange was dead."


	3. News Travels Fast

The small cottage outside the castle greenhouses was unusually warm, something Neville was very grateful for as he collapsed at his desk. He unloaded his bag onto the desktop, rolls of parchments tumbling out. He had gotten used to coming home to a cold house that meant gathering wood and getting a fire going. He still wasn't the best at some spells after all these years, fire starting being ones he still had trouble with.

"I guess one of the elves came in again."

"Oh, Neville! You're home finally!"

Neville nearly fell from his chair at the sudden voice coming from the common area. "H-Hermoine?! Where are you?"

"Over here! The fireplace!"

He looked, and sure enough, there was Hermoine's head, enveloped in blue flames.

Her face brightened as he came into full view. "Oh Neville! I called as soon as I heard but you were gone so I've been waiting for your return."

"What?" Neville asked, perplexed.

Ron's head squeezed into focus. "Your Mum and Da. We heard the news that they were cured!"

Neville was surprised at the excitement on his two friends faces. "You've already heard? I just got back this morning and haven't told anyone outside of Hogwarts."

"Hold on, I'll get it." Ron disappeared from the fire, only for Hermoine to turn away and begin screaming.

"No! No, no, no! If you bring it in then it'll catch fire!" Hermoine groaned when she turned back to face Neville. "We saw in the Daily Prophet this morning. You made the cover, along with a few other articles talking about how this could be as momentous as the Wolfs bane Potion, and one asking about the mysterious wizard who discovered the cure."

"Witch," Neville corrected. At the confused look on the two burning faces, he further explained. "It was a witch. She looked about our age but I didn't get a good look at her, I was too focused on my parents." Neville paused, realizing something. "Hermoine, have you really been waiting here all day with your head in the fireplace?"

Even with the muted colors, Hermoine's face darkened some. "No, not exactly. We first called to St. Mundo's but they said you'd already departed back to Hogwarts. So, I've been periodically peeking in to look for you." Her eyes lit back up though when she remembered what he'd said prior to asking the question. "So, it's really a witch our age that discovered the cure?"

Ron groaned this time, rolling his eyes, "She's not gonna let me live this down for a long time, you know." He gave her a glare when she hushed him.

Suddenly, both Hermoine and Ron disappeared, as if jerked back only for Molly, Ron's mother, to pop in. "Oh, dear, I'm so happy for you. Arthur and I already have plans to come see Frank and Alice once they're up for visitors. Do you happen to know the name of the young lady who brought them back?"

"Uh, I think I heard Madame Josefina mention the name Morbutton?"

Molly's joyful face grew serious immediately, as if seeing a ghost. "Morbutton, you say?" When Neville nodded, she looked even more troubled.

"Mrs. Weasley? Are you OK? Do you know the Morbuttons?"

"What color was the girl's hair? Was it dark or light?"

Neville, who was now wary and a bit of fear creeping up his spine, swallowed before answering. "Dark. Dark and curly."

Molly closed her eyes and nodded. She brought her hand up to her chin, rubbing at it like she was thinking over a difficult spell. She opened her eyes to stare into Neville's eyes, and even through the flames, he could feel the motherly love there.

"Dear, I'm going to talk to McGonagall. I know you just returned, but I think you need to come for a visit. We have some things we need to discuss."

Neville knew better to argue with the Weasley Matriarch. If he didn't come, then she'd come grab him herself and drag him to her home. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be there in the morning."


End file.
